Finally, he spoke, his words weighed down withemotion. “Before I answer that,” he said slowly, “tell me—did you lovehim?”
ChapterFourteen
Lena needed to know.
The guilt had been nagging at her, a relentless burn since the night he’d identified her as the lost duchess by confirming the birthmark above her navel. Her hand involuntarily crept up to the spot and rubbed it. Goosebumps pricked her skin at the mere thought that he even knew she had this.
It was…inconceivable.
His eyes sharply followed her every move. Eyes the colour of molten silver, sharp and cold, yet she’d seen them soften to a darker shade every time they fell on Hector. There was a wistfulness in them, a quiet longing, mingled with hesitation. She had seen the same look in the eyes of a poor boy once, standing in front of a confectioner’s shop window displaying a colourful figure made of fondant and chocolate.
And just now, the same look was in his eyes.
When he looked at her like that, it took her breathaway, her mouth went dry, and her heart fluttered like a thousand butterflies.
He’d wanted to know about Simon, so she’d told him, but how could anyone who’d never met Simon understand who he truly was, what he had meant to her with just a few words?
Now he’d wanted to know whether she’d loved Simon.
Simon had been…Simon.
They had not been married. He had needed a friend and a mother for his children, especially for Les, who’d been so little. He had been her doctor, then a strong shoulder to lean on when she had no memory about her life, not even her name. He hadn’t cared about etiquette and convention. He’d been her anchor when her world was again shaken when she discovered she was with child. He had provided a solution, suggesting she stay with them. Unconventional, yes, but it had been perfect for everyone. He had been a father to Hector and given him his name.
Had she loved him?
Of course she had. Who wouldn’t love such a kind, selfless, caring man like Simon?
But they’d never been lovers, nor had they married.
And now this stranger stood before her. A powerful English Duke, handsome, haughty, and reserved. Intimidating and unlike anyone she had ever known. He claimed the most unlikely thing, that she was his wife. Then he wanted to know if she had loved Simon. How could she explain all this in a few words?
“We were not married,” she said slowly, choosing herwords with care. “When Simon died, I was heartbroken. I miss him every minute of every day, and I wish with all my heart that he were still alive. He saved my life. He was my rock when I thought the darkness of my lost memories would swallow me whole. He helped me out of that hole, gave me a new life, a home, and a new name. I mourn him deeply as a very dear friend, not as a husband or lover. He was neither.” She lifted her eyes to meet his. “Do you understand?”
He hesitated, then gave a single nod.
But now it was her turn. She had to know. With a wavering voice, she asked, “Were we very much in love?”
His silver eyes looked haunted.
She immediately pressed a hand against her lips and regretted the question. Just when she decided to tell him never mind, that he need not reply, he opened his mouth and said, “Yes.” His voice was hoarse with emotion.
And oh, that look in his eyes!
She couldn’t tear her gaze from his and felt an overwhelming sadness well up in her, because she could not remember a single thing about that love that had once been. A love that had come to her. A love that had been her very own. She’d forgotten all about it. She felt the bitter taste of guilt in her mouth, as dry as ash.
“I see,” she whispered and hung her head.
He retrieved some trinket from his pocket and held it out to her. “I had it sent for immediately after the soiree at Metternich’s two weeks ago. Castlereagh’s special courier brought it back swiftly. It arrived this morning. Do you recognise it?”
It was a small, silver locket. He placed it in her palm.A coat of arms was engraved on the oval plate, comprised of a lion, a stag, a tree, and a star. Above it, the ducal crown.Veritas Vincit, it said in Latin underneath.
“Truth conquers,” Lena whispered.
It lay cold in her palm. She moved her fingers instinctively, opening the locket as if she’d known all along what was inside.
On one side was a delicately painted miniature of a lady in a blue dress. It was a young girl with a sweet disposition, her wide eyes brimming with innocence and her rose-petalled lips hinting at a smile. Her hair was swept up and fine ringlets framed her face.
On the other side was a lock of golden hair.
